Algeria: Into the Never-ending Desert

It's probably worth mentioning that our departure to Algiers was immediately preceded by a clear skin check at Norwich N&N Plastics Department. I had expected it to be clear. Honestly, I know how to spot a melanoma and any other skin lesion. I know my skin. I know when something doesn't look right. As usual, the dermatologist was not from the UK, was a trainee, and didn't really check everywhere. I mean, how the heck can he tell if I've got a melanoma on my scalp if he doesn't look there? Or on my butt? Or on my feet? But I signed up for these ongoing checks and, if this is what I get for free, they're definitely better than nothing. And at least if something does crop up in the future, they'll cut it out relatively quickly. 

A week later, my wife Miras, my son Raf and I were heading to Gatwick for a night at our favourite airport hotel: the Travelodge. We totally had the airport wired after last year's trips and had found a non-standard path to the hotel to avoid the irritation of the shuttle bus. We also brought a picnic with us to quell any hunger. After a restful night, we woke up and wandered over to the terminal — the wrong one initially — and ended up almost missing our flight. Thankfully, we made the last, last call and, a few hours and an uneventful flight later, the British Airways jet dipped through the rain clouds to land at Houari Boumediene Airport. Visa formalities took a while, but within an hour the agent who had organised everything was waiting at arrivals with a banner containing our names and drove us swiftly to the old city. 

Algeria is one of those difficult countries to navigate as an independent traveller. The visa is very hard to get unless you book an organised tour, so we skipped the embassy trips for a seven-day adventure with an agency specialising in desert tours and, by opting for a majority of the trip in the south, qualified for visa on arrival for 150 euros a head. However, the first two days were in Algiers, on a fast-moving tour of the city's key sites. Nothing blew me away apart from the Ramadan feasts we were blessed with and the truly remarkable Jardin Botanique du Hamma, containing every tree you can imagine. Of course, we hadn't come all this way for the city. No, this trip was all about getting away from the everyday and hitting Djanet — one of the most incredible deserts in the world. 

I think the two-and-a-half-hour flight time from Algiers to Djanet tells you a lot about how remote the area is. After arriving on the red-eye, we woke up in a guesthouse right in the middle of the Sahara. Before devouring breakfast, I took a casual wander around town and was quickly impressed by the towering dunes and mellow desert vibes, but this was nothing compared to what lay ahead. 

Just 3,000 euros all-in had got us this incredible private tour of Algeria: two days in Algiers and five days in the Djanet region. I didn't know quite what to expect in terms of quality, but from the moment Bouba and Ahmed, our Djanet guides, picked us up in their 4x4, I couldn't believe what we had dialled into. They drove us to a different spot every day, set up camp, cooked scrumptious meals for us, and let us sleep under an Algerian sky, where peace returned to my life for the first time in quite a while. Every area had different styles of rock formations, and attractions like small wadis broke the monotony of the sand. Some days herds of goats crowded around us, trying to secure a treat, whereas on others we were magically alone. Apart from the last day, we didn't see any other humans, and I only saw this camp on one of my early-morning solo walks. 

Algeria was everything I had hoped for and far more. The only thing missing was a sandboard, as the slopes around Djanet were perfect for sandboarding and, with my experience in Al Jouf, I could have ripped up the slopes. Still, I was nursing a frozen shoulder, so perhaps the lack of a board was for the best. 

Two night flights from Djanet to elsewhere in the Sahara and then on to Algiers got us back into civilisation. Upon arrival at Houari Boumediene Airport, we wandered over to the Hyatt Regency for a marvellous breakfast buffet. It was the final treat before British Airways once again carried us back to England, where life had to go on in the way it had been going. 

It is only trips like these that are keeping me alive and dreaming of a future beyond my current rather troubled one.